


Hooked On A Feeling

by spidergvven



Category: Marvel
Genre: Fluff, M/M, sam is happy to oblige, steve cant stop staring at sam, steve wants to do more kissing in the 21st century
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-12
Updated: 2014-06-12
Packaged: 2018-02-04 09:19:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1773883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spidergvven/pseuds/spidergvven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>how Captain America: The Winter Soldier should have ended, aka short sweet fluff to dull the pain this film has caused me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hooked On A Feeling

**Author's Note:**

> title from the blue swede song which I've been listening to more than I'd like to admit since I heard it in the guardians of the galaxy trailer

"When do we start?" Sam asks and whatever clever retort Steve was formulating died on his lips as he looked over the file in his hand. _Where_ do we start? is the better question Steve thinks. A gently breeze ruffles the papers in his hands and he snaps the worn folder shut. It’s a bright, balmy day, the kind he and Bucky used to spend lounging in his cramped Brooklyn apartment listening to the radio while Steve drew and Bucky would turn his chair to face the window, stretching out languidly, his shirt sleeves rolled up and his head lolling back to watch Steve. He knows without looking that Sam’s eyes are fixed on him, his face probably twisted with worry. It is not the kind of day for mourning though, Steve thinks, it’s a day for dead men to live again.

"You sure you wanna do this Sam?" he asks one more time, just to be sure, turning towards the other man.

"Yeah," Sam says, "Hell yeah!"

"Good," Steve smiles at him and it’s not a grimace or the flashy grin he wears in front of cameras, but a soft, shy smile. "I’m glad."

Sam is smiling too and the sunlight makes his eyes look like drops of molten gold. There’s a bubbling, swelling feeling of hope in his chest, and Steve thinks he could float away on it. All the grief and heartache he’d been carrying with him since he first woke up in New York seems old and distant now. Sam gives him a sidelong look and Steve belatedly realizes that he’s been staring.

"There’s something I’ve been meaning to do," before he can think too much about it and decide it’s a bad idea Steve steps closer to Sam and takes his hand. It’s warm and calloused and his fingers fit just right, _feel_ just right, curled around Sam’s.

"But I keep getting distracted," Steve smiles again, a clever quirk of his lips, and kisses Sam. It’s nothing like kissing Peggy, urgent and desperate, or Natasha, a calculated ploy, it’s just, _nice_. Sam’s lips are soft and gentle and Steve thinks about floating again, or maybe flying since it’s Sam.

"Oh, so that’s how it is," Sam pulls away and says. There’s an unreadable look in his eyes, but he’s still smiling.

"Yeah," Steve laughs, "that’s how it is."

Then Sam grins, his smile like a dazzling ray of sun that makes Steve’s head spin, and leans in to kiss him back. It’s short and sweet, shorter than Steve would like if he’s being honest (and he’s always honest).

"We’ve got a soldier to bring home still," he says, voice turning serious.

"Yeah, I- you’re right, Jesus, I don’t know what I was thinking," Steve is flustered now.

"That’s not what I meant" and Sam is laughing now. He pulls Steve in for another quick, way to chaste kiss then tugs on Steve’s hand and they walk away from the empty grave they’d been standing over.

"We’ll figure out whatever we need to figure out when we need to figure it out," he says, "right now though I’m starving."

Steve is hungry too now that he thinks about it and they start arguing over lunch options, whether sit down is better than buffet. When there’s a lull in the conversation after they’ve decided only ‘all you can eat’ could possibly satisfy their appetites right now Steve thinks for the very first time ever that he’s glad to have woken up in this time and this place. Everything’s not alright, not even remotely, but now, maybe it can be.


End file.
